


Four Times Caroline and Gillian Flirted at Weddings, and One Time They Kissed

by narcissablaxk



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, First Kiss, Future, Marriage, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:49:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Set across the four seasons of Last Tango, not including season five, Caroline and Gillian always seem to have heart-to-hearts when there are weddings concerned.
Relationships: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Four Times Caroline and Gillian Flirted at Weddings, and One Time They Kissed

“They have an appointment down at the registry office today,” Gillian half-bellowed into the phone, and she could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other side. Caroline, she knew, would be shaking her head disapprovingly at her tone, her glasses perched on the end of her dignified nose. “They’re getting married.” 

“Mum and Alan?” Caroline repeated dumbly, dropping her pen onto her desk. “You sure?” 

“I found the card down the side of the settee,” Gillian said, grabbing her keys and jogging to the door, snatching her ratty purse off the peg by the door. “Their appointment is in,” she checked the card again, “fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, I can’t – I can’t get there,” Caroline stammered on the other line. “I have meetings –”

“Fine,” Gillian snapped, and hung up the phone. Caroline stared at it long after the call ended, the screen darkening to black, trying to decide what the right course of action was. Part of her was offended, hurt that she hadn’t been invited to their wedding, and another, more logical part of her brain studiously reminded her that it probably had nothing to do with her or Gillian at all, and she should let it alone. 

Her next meeting with the head of the board of trustees distracted her sufficiently from the issue of Alan and Celia’s secret wedding, but by the time it was over, Caroline’s ever deviating brain had decided that not rushing to the registry office was, in fact, a terrible idea, a horrible idea, and she was ringing Gillian again while mouthing to her secretary that she needed to be off, post haste. 

Gillian didn’t answer the first call, or the second, and on the third, Caroline had just decided she would not ring a fourth time when she answered, her voice thick with tears and what sounded a lot like rage, and sympathy burst forth, followed almost immediately by the particular wave of irritation and amusement that she reserved specifically for Gillian’s dramatics. 

“Where are you?” she asked. 

“Stag’s Head,” was Gillian’s murmured reply, and of course she was at a pub, and Caroline muttered quickly that she would be there in thirty minutes, and hung up. She didn’t speed to the pub – what would be the purpose of speeding at this point – and was getting out of her Jeep at almost exactly the mark of half past. She checked her reflection in her side mirror – work clothes, hair just slightly ruffled, and wiped a stray edge of her lipstick before she went in. 

Why was she bothering, she asked herself. Did it matter what she looked like if she was just going to see Gillian, who was probably half-pissed already anyway, too deep in her pint too look up and be grateful that Caroline put an effort into her appearance? No, it didn’t matter, but still Caroline held herself higher, found herself self-consciously searching the pub’s inhabitants for her now-step-sister. 

Gillian was in the corner booth, a glass of red wine in front of where Caroline was expected to sit, and despite Caroline’s unfavorable assumption of her attention levels, took in Caroline’s appearance quickly, efficiently, and looked down at the table again, her own flannel shirt and almost greasy hair just barely visible to her own eyes. What a shoddy pair they must make, she thought, perfect, crisp Caroline next to her. People would think Gillian was her charity case, a criminal recently paroled. 

She wanted to dislike Caroline for looking like she did, but as usual, Gillian was failing at her goals. 

“Sorry I couldn’t get away sooner –” Caroline said breathlessly, sliding into the chair, and Gillian, momentarily distracted by the way she moved, gracefully and perfectly, forgot to respond. “I left my other meetings,” Caroline added after a moment. 

Gillian, hoping her admiration wasn’t caught, hastened to respond. “Don’t worry about it,” she muttered, taking another long drink from the glass on the table. “There’s no way you could have gotten there in fifteen minutes, not unless you were Spock.” 

“Mr. Spock,” Caroline corrected. 

“Whatever,” Gillian rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it didn’t matter.” 

“They did it, then?” Caroline asked, looking down at the glass of red wine for the first time. “They actually got married?” 

“I dunno, really,” Gillian admitted. “I didn’t stick around.” 

Caroline leaned her chin onto her hand, looking intently at Gillian across the table. “So what did you do, then?” she asked, and Gillian could almost imagine, if the circumstances were different, that this was some sort of odd blind date. To an outsider, it looked like Gillian was wooing Caroline flawlessly, and Gillian almost wished the appearances were reality. 

“I told them to sod off, gave them a piece of my mind, and stormed out,” she said with a shrug. 

Caroline looked at her pityingly and slid one of her hands over the table to take Gillian’s. “It more than likely had nothing to do with us,” she said softly. Gillian watched her hand, manicured, with expensive rings, covering her own, calloused and dirty. Oil and water, they were. 

“I know that,” she replied, and Caroline’s thumb ran over her knuckles soothingly. “I know that, but it doesn’t make it better.” 

“I know,” Caroline agreed. 

Gillian fell silent, trying to think of what to say next – she wanted to commiserate with Caroline, complain and bitch and moan until they were both pissed and the pub kicked them out, but that wasn’t Caroline’s style, was it? She was too good for that, too logical. Gillian wished she could be more like that.

“I’m surprised you answered when I rang,” she said instead. “After I told you…about John.” 

Caroline, surprising even herself, shrugged. “Don’t worry yourself about John,” she said graciously. “He’s always been lucky with women who were far too good for him.” 

Gillian flushed and fixed her gaze on the wooden table in front of her. “You really think that?” she asked incredulously. 

Caroline grinned impishly at her. “Far cry from brain dead, lowlife trailer trash, innit?” she asked. “I am sorry,” she continued. “That your father decided to…exclude you from this. But I really don’t think it had anything to do with you, with us.” 

“That doesn’t make it hurt less,” Gillian replied, and the reply was so soft, so honest, that Caroline didn’t know what to say in return. Gillian was right, she knew, because she felt the sting of being excluded in her chest, too. But Gillian felt it more, Gillian felt everything more. That was why she was always getting herself into scrapes, Caroline thought. Because she felt everything so much that she went out of her way to either embrace it or dull it. Both options often led to trouble. 

There was something decidedly uncivilized about her, something almost animalistic that Caroline had initially loathed but now found herself drawn to. She wanted to feel repulsed by Gillian’s complete inability to behave like a grown up, but that wasn’t actually her issue – she could see that clearly now. 

It wasn’t that Gillian couldn’t behave like a grown up, it was that she had been forced to be a grown up so early and for so long that she couldn’t keep the façade up all of the time. Caroline knew how she felt. 

She gave Gillian a comforting smile and finally took a sip of the wine sitting in front of her. Perhaps, if she were particularly charming, she could turn the afternoon around for Gillian. She sincerely hoped she could.

***

“Kate’s nice,” Gillian said, watching Caroline’s profile carefully for a reaction. Caroline blanched, and quickly covered it up with an empty smile. 

“She’s gone,” she replied. “Over an hour ago, and why not?” 

Gillian glanced over at Caroline’s black and white dress, her white jacket, the flower sticking out of the pocket, her hair soft and delicate and perfect. She couldn’t see one reason why Kate should skip out on the wedding early; there were a million reasons why she should stay, and all of them had everything to do with the forlorn look on Caroline’s face. 

Gillian had learned too much about her step-sister to pretend that she didn’t understand her now. Not after planning this wedding together, not after getting pissed and making confessions by the light of her fire. There was no hiding that Gillian understood her now, could read her as easily as she could read her father, or Raff. 

“He brought her along to make a statement,” she said, tilting her head toward Robbie and Cheryl, dancing closely on the dance floor. Caroline, sensing that Gillian was changing the subject for her sake, allowed the deviation and glanced over at them. “He’s trying to get to me.” 

“Let him,” Caroline shrugged. “You were right. It’s a bad idea to be with Robbie.” 

Gillian blinked, trying to remember the conversation they’d had where she had concluded as much. But Caroline was looking at her beseechingly, as if asking her silently to agree, and Gillian gave a non-committal rise of one shoulder that satisfied her. True, her common sense did say that she shouldn’t be with Robbie, especially if she wanted to keep her secret, but who else was there? 

“Dance with me,” she said to Caroline before her mouth had time to keep the words inside. Caroline glanced at her, eyes wide, searching, Gillian speculated, for an empty glass of wine she could use as an excuse to explain Gillian’s invitation. “I’m not pissed,” she answered the silence with a smile. “It’s a wedding, Caz. You should be dancing.” 

“Alright, alright,” Caroline acquiesced, setting down her untouched glass of champagne and leading Gillian to the dance floor. Without asking, Caroline slipped her hands around Gillian’s waist, leaving Gillian with no choice but to interlace her fingers behind Caroline’s neck, her fingers just barely brushing her enticingly soft hair. 

“If Kate left already,” Gillian began tentatively, moving closer to Caroline to speak without being overheard. “Maybe it just isn’t meant to be.” 

Caroline didn’t speak, but nodded, and she was so close to Gillian now that her blonde hair was mingling with Gillian’s own, her perfume and Gillian’s shampoo mixing into a completely new smell that Gillian would struggle to recreate later, she knew. 

“I’ve never danced with another woman before,” Gillian admitted, and Caroline pulled back far enough to take in all of her face, a teasing smile on her lips. 

“No?” Caroline asked, her smile turning to a full grin. “Could have fooled me, you seem very at ease.” 

“It’s just you, Caz,” Gillian replied, breathless. Caroline’s smile slipped, her observation of Gillian’s face occupying everything, so that even their dancing slowed to a gentle sway. Gillian could feel her father’s eyes on them, Celia’s probably more disapproving. It didn’t matter, did it? They were step-sisters, they were allowed to dance at their parents’ wedding. 

Robbie, behind Caroline, was looking curiously in her direction, but she spared him only a glance before she looked back at Caroline, who was still gazing at her, her blue eyes searching for something, a hint of truth. Gillian looked back at her, trying to decide how truthful to be. 

Did she have the guts to tell Caroline how pretty she was? How interesting, how complex? Did she dare tell Caroline how much she thought about her, to the point of distraction? Or was this not the time? 

She opened her mouth to speak, and a tap on her shoulder stopped her short. 

Kate was standing behind her, and Caroline’s eyes slipped from Gillian’s to hers. 

“Can I cut in?” she asked. 

***

Gillian rejected Caroline’s invitation to her and Kate’s wedding. It was out of propriety, she thought at the time, but she knew it was bitterness. She liked Kate, and she thought Kate and Caroline were a good enough match, but it didn’t seem like enough. Just because she wanted Caroline to be happy didn’t mean she had to watch it happen. She didn’t want to watch Caroline become officially unattainable forever. 

So she said she was busy, lying her arse off, and felt guilty the moment she hung up the phone. Her rejection haunted her waking days; she thought about it while she herded sheep, while she tried to navigate her own relationship with Robbie, she thought about it all the time. 

When the day finally arrived, she had to come to terms with the fact that she’d made a mistake. She had to be there, didn’t she? Maybe she had to be there to make some sort of bold declaration to Caroline, to finally admit that their own friendly bond had something deeper to it, that they deserved to have the opportunity to explore it. 

She got into her Land Rover with these thoughts, and by the time she arrived at Caroline’s house, too early to meet her at wherever the wedding was happening, her nerve had fizzled. She wasn’t even dressed to attend a wedding, much less to make a dramatic declaration of love. And is that what it would be? Or was it simply a declaration of interest? Certainly not good enough to postpone a wedding. 

Caroline answered the door, already dressed. She said something, it must have been a hello, but Gillian was too distracted. She wasn’t so cliché as to wear white to her second wedding, but the jacket she wore was enough white that Gillian was suddenly struck by how angelic, how stunning she would be in all white. 

“Gillian?” Caroline repeated. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” 

“What?” Gillian asked, and Caroline was suddenly even more worried. Why else would Gillian look that distracted? “What? No, nothing’s happened. I just – I wanted to congratulate you.” 

“I thought you were busy,” Caroline said with a hint of humor. She had known, the moment Gillian declined her invitation, that the reason had been suspect. Gillian was hurt, probably – she had found out about the wedding from Alan and thought her invitation was an afterthought. That’s what Caroline believed, anyway. 

Self-consciously, she adjusted her jacket, feeling almost exposed in her wedding clothes. It was a simple affair, her and Kate’s wedding, and the way Gillian kept looking at her was making her regret it. 

“I wasn’t busy,” Gillian blurted finally. “I was…well, I wasn’t busy.” 

“You better come inside,” Caroline said, stepping aside so Gillian could slip in past her. Kate was in the kitchen, putting away the tea cups. The whole house was full of a nervous energy – Caroline put that down to everyone standing around in suits and dresses, waiting to go somewhere they couldn’t go to yet. “Come on through,” she told Gillian, opening the door to the study and closing it behind them. 

Gillian didn’t say anything for a while, but stood and looked around the room. Caroline realized as she did that Gillian had never been in that part of her house before. She let her for a few moments before clearing her throat. 

“Is there something you wanted to say?” she prompted. 

Gillian glanced around the room again, as if searching for the words. Caroline watched her, in her flannel and denim and rugged boots, looking altogether out of place in her house, with a fondness that struck her as important. 

“I’m sorry I said I was busy,” Gillian said finally. “I wasn’t busy, I just…” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Caroline assured her. Suddenly the possibility that Gillian was not comfortable witnessing a gay wedding was almost more than she could bear. If that was the truth, she’d like to stay ignorant of it. 

“Do you remember,” Gillian said instead, “Alan and Celia’s wedding? The one we went to?” 

“Course,” Caroline sighed, relieved. 

“We danced, and I was going to tell you something,” Gillian prompted. Caroline nodded, hoping she’d continue, but she seemed to have run short of courage. She lingered there, looking at Caroline, as if waiting for her to finish the thought. 

“And then Kate cut in,” Caroline coaxed. 

Gillian swallowed thickly. “I told you that I’d never danced with a woman and you said I seemed comfortable,” she continued. 

Suddenly, Caroline’s analytical brain stuck all of the pieces together with a force that almost knocked her off her feet. With a surprised sound, she felt her way back to the couch and sat gingerly on the edge. 

It all made sense now – Gillian’s rushed rejection of the wedding invitation, the forced way she talked about the wedding as a certainty, her sudden reconciliation with Robbie. It all added up in the satisfying way a complicated chemical equation did when you knew what to look for. 

“Oh Gil,” she said quietly. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

Gillian looked relieved that she’d pieced it together, but somehow even more mortified now that she had. “Kate was there!” she exclaimed. “That’s who you wanted to be with. What was I supposed to do? Run in there like a bull in a china shop?” 

Caroline couldn’t contradict her – she had wanted Kate – did want Kate. But there was something with Gillian that she couldn’t quantify, something she would have liked to explore before she couldn’t. But even that would have been complicated, wouldn’t it? 

Gillian was looking at her while she thought, a sad smile on her face. “I didn’t come here to ruin your day. I came here to congratulate you. I am happy for you.” 

“You’re not,” Caroline corrected, standing up. “Happy, that is. But I understand.” Gently, she took Gillian’s hand and squeezed it. “Maybe in another life, yeah?” she asked with a weak laugh. 

Gillian matched it, and extricated her hand from Caroline’s. “Yeah,” she agreed. 

***

Caroline expected the day Gillian was going to get married to Robbie to be a difficult one – for all of them. She could barely combat the feeling of dread that overwhelmed her when she thought about the wedding happening at all – and she could only logically blame part of the dread on Gillian’s secret, one she couldn’t hope to keep from Robbie once they were wed. 

The other half was reliving the conversation they’d had the day of her wedding to Kate. They had never discussed that possibility again, but the closer they got to Gillian and Robbie’s wedding, the more Caroline wondered if she should bring it up again. Perhaps Gillian was waiting for her to say something instead. 

But wouldn’t that be disloyal to Kate and her memory? Wouldn’t that be like acting like Kate never existed, that their wedding never happened? So she stayed silent until Gillian offered her her hand and guided her to the loo to help her get cleaned up after changing a tyre and falling in a bunch of horse shit, which was, frankly, a perfect representation of how Caroline felt. 

The moment the door closed behind them, Caroline spoke, her voice low. “Do you want to do this?” she asked. “Honestly. We’ve been beating around the bush all day with excuses, but you’ve never actually said it.” 

Gillian stared at herself in the mirror, her shoulders tight. “What do you think?” she asked. 

This was a bit of deflection, and Caroline knew they didn’t have the time for it, but still, she answered, “I don’t think you should marry him.” 

“Because of Eddie?” Gillian clarified, turning from the mirror to face Caroline. “Or because of you?” 

With a sigh, Caroline turned away from her and surveyed her own reflection. “I look ridiculous,” she muttered. 

“You look divine,” Gillian said sharply. “Don’t deflect.”

“It is because of Eddie,” Caroline said quietly, her eyes rising to the door that still wasn’t locked. “But,” she stepped forward, taking Gillian’s hands in her own. “We did say, in another lifetime.” 

Gillian smiled, squeezing her hands. “We did, Caz, but has it been a lifetime?” She released one of Caroline’s hands to brush some of her wayward blonde hair behind her ear. “Because it still seems to me like you miss Kate. And I don’t want to be a plaster over a wound. Do you?” 

Caroline sighed, looking down at the hand Gillian was still holding. She was still wearing her wedding ring. “No.” 

Gillian tilted her chin back to her, her eyes bright and intense. “I would love to be with you, Caroline, more than you know. But I can’t. I can’t imagine a day where you don’t miss Kate, where you don’t wish she was still here. And I’m not going to do that to me, to us.” 

Caroline sniffed, looking away from Gillian to the ceiling. “That’s very mature of you,” she said. 

“Always the tone of surprise,” Gillian replied with a laugh before turning serious. “I learned to be mature from you, Caz.” 

“Do you really want to marry him?” Caroline asked. 

Gillian hesitated, her eyes searching the room for the answer habitually, like she always did when she wasn’t sure what to say. “I do care about Robbie,” she said finally. Caroline blinked and looked away, and Gillian let her, until the silence had become unbearable. “Are we still…cool, Vincent?” she asked softly, and Caroline nodded, releasing her hands and endeavoring with more vigor to clean up her appearance. 

***

“How many weddings have we attended?” Caroline asked as Gillian straightened the flowers on the ends of the benches. Gillian laughed, carefree and jubilant, and Caroline watched it happen, letting Gillian’s amusement fill her up like sunshine. She was wearing a green dress that Caroline had picked out for her, the color deep and flattering. 

“Too bloody many,” she replied, and Caroline caught her looking at her this time, her eyes still that stunning and disorienting shade of blue. “I’m sick of them.” 

“No, you’re not,” Caroline admonished. “Besides, it’s about time Raff and Ellie got wed, isn’t it?” 

Gillian plopped down in the seat she had just adjusted, sighing. “Yeah, two kids later. But who does it in the right order anymore?” 

“No one,” Caroline said softly, offering Gillian her hand. “Come on, mother of the groom. Let’s get you a drink.” 

“You’re the boss, Caz,” Gillian replied, threading her fingers between Caroline’s as they walked down the aisle to the bar, just getting set up. 

The wedding, unlike any of their own, went off without a hitch, and Caroline and Gillian found themselves standing by the bar, watching their kids dance with wistful smiles on their face. Gillian kept glancing back at Caroline, her light blue dress reminding her of yet another one of the weddings they’d attended together, her lipstick light and barely noticeable. 

“Stop staring at me, you pillock,” Caroline hissed, taking a sly drink of her champagne. “You’re transparent.” 

“So?” Gillian asked, gesturing to the party. “No one’s paying attention to us.” 

“No,” Caroline agreed. “In that, we are lucky.” 

“Do you want to dance again?” Gillian asked. “Just like old times?” 

“You have someone in the wings waiting to cut in?” Caroline asked shrewdly. 

Gillian laughed, holding out her hand. “Nope. This one’s all you.” 

Caroline allowed Gillian to lead her to the dance floor this time, slipping her hands around Gillian’s waist, as was her custom. Gillian pulled her close, closer than they’d been the first time they’d danced, and they swayed together, the music all but forgotten, the crowd an easily ignored distraction. 

“So,” Caroline began, her voice just barely audible above the music and everyone else’s chatter. 

“So,” Gillian repeated, her voice almost a laugh in Caroline’s ear. 

“Has it been a lifetime yet?” Caroline asked. 

Gillian pulled back, the better to see Caroline’s face, and looked around at everyone else. “Is this a conversation you’d like to have here?” she asked. Caroline looked around and shrugged. “Because I think your mother already looks very disapproving.” 

“Let her,” she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze, fiery and determined, back to Gillian. “You haven’t answered my question.” 

Gillian, lost in her gaze, stumbled. “I’ve forgotten what it was,” she admitted. 

“I can endeavor to remind you,” Caroline teased, steering Gillian away from the rest of the crowd. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

“I’m listening,” Gillian replied, and Caroline leaned in, pressing a ghostly, soft kiss on the soft skin of her cheek near her ear. Gillian let her eyes wander to the crowd, looking for the disapproving gaze of Celia, or someone else she didn’t want intruding on her moment. 

But no one was watching, and it was up to her to tug Caroline outside into the hallway, her breath caught in her throat, her pulse thudding in her chest. Caroline grinned at her, mischievous and feline, and pressed her against the wall, her second kiss capturing Gillian’s mouth, greedy and eager. 

They kissed for a long time, both of them laughing and pulling away intermittently to take in the other’s expression, to enjoy their company, and it wasn’t until the music inside died away that they darted down the hallway and up the stairs, away from the party and towards their own.


End file.
